


Feel Me Listening To You

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Read My Lips [53]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6869377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, Rodney Mckay/ John Sheppard, See Me, Feel Me/Listening to you [Tommy]."</p><p>Continued from the previous Outcast tag. Dave happens across a moment between John, Rodney, and Evan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel Me Listening To You

Dave headed up the stairs to John’s room to see if he would come downstairs for brunch. The girls were awake and wanted to play with their Uncle John some more, go ride horses or just play tag on the lawn. Now that the funeral formalities were over, they were tired of being on their best behavior, and they had been very good, so Dave couldn’t begrudge them some harmless fun.  
  
Dave paused on the landing when he heard soft guitar notes.  
  
“Nope, not quite. A little higher. A little higher,” Rodney was saying.  
  
Someone else was plucking the notes.  
  
“There! Okay, next one.”  
  
Dave had asked the staff to clean John’s room but not disturb anything. It hadn’t occurred to him to put the guitar away. John had bought it himself with money he’d earned from math tutoring at school when he was ten. The thing had been his pride and joy even though it was a cheap, battered thing from a pawn shop and he could have had Mom purchase a top-of-the line instrument at the drop of a hat.  
  
“And we’re tuned,” Rodney said. “Let’s go.”  
  
Rodney played the piano. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to guess he might play the guitar as well. Only when Dave peeked into John’s bedroom, he saw John, Rodney, and Evan all sitting cross-legged on John’s bed, like girls at a slumber party, and John was the one holding the guitar.  
  
He strummed a chord, and it sounded - right. Perfect.  
  
Normal.  
  
“That’s F,” John murmured, and Dave’s throat closed.  
  
John was _speaking_.  
  
Evan’s eyes went wide, but Rodney was nodding encouragingly.  
  
“And then A minor, and C,” John continued. “There. Ghost Riders in the Sky. You ready?”  
  
Rodney nodded, spoke and signed. “Ready!”  
  
John began to play. Rodney sang. He had a clear, steady voice, not particularly beautiful, but definitely on key. Evan joined in. He was a less skillful singer, but he managed to pitch his voice with Rodney’s. Both of them signed as they sang, swaying to the music. John’s transitions between chords were rough, but this was the first song he’d ever learned on the guitar, and the further he played, the smoother the transitions became, muscle memory kicking in.  
  
John was smiling at the two of them, mouthing the words of the song, but he didn’t dare sing.  
  
As a teenager, John had had a lovely singing voice.  
  
When the song ended, Evan and Rodney clapped and cheered, and John took a little bow over the guitar.  
  
“You did great,” Rodney said. “A little rusty at first, but your chords never went sour. How did it feel?”  
  
John stroked the curves of the guitar, contemplating. Then he signed. “I could feel the music rumbling through it, like when you’re holding me and you laugh. I could feel it in my chest.”  
  
“Do you think, with time, you’d be able to feel the different chords?” Evan asked.  
  
John shook his head. “Too subtle. But I can still keep time with the strumming pattern. I’d just - not notice if I hit a wrong note, is all. Would have to watch my own hands more closely.”  
  
Rodney leaned in and kissed John softly. “Your hands are great.”  
  
John reached out, pressed a hand to Rodney’s chest. “You should sing for me. So I can feel you. Listen to you.”  
  
“Better him than me,” Evan said, laughing.  
  
“You sing off-key,” John said.  
  
Evan raised his eyebrows. “How would you know?” But he didn’t sound offended.  
  
“I can see it on your face, the way you wince every time you hit a wrong note,” John said. “But I’d listen to you too, if you’d like.”  
  
“Nope. Pretty sure this is where I take my leave, before you two and your rampant sweetness give me a toothache.” Evan slid to his feet. “That was amazing, John. Thank you for sharing that.”  
  
John smiled at him. “Thanks for being here.”  
  
Dave turned and hurried for the stairs, heart pounding. He knew he’d intruded on a private moment, that he ought to confess and say sorry, but he wanted to keep that moment for himself, John speaking and playing the guitar and sitting on his bed, just like he had when they were teenagers, just like he had before Mom died.  
  
When John, Rodney, and Evan came downstairs for brunch, Dave smiled at them, and they smiled back, confused but happy, and for one terrible moment, Dave was glad Dad was dead, because his death had brought John home.


End file.
